Friday, March 23, 2007

I've come by, she says, to tell youthat this is it. I'm not kidding, it'sover. this is it.I sit on the couch watching her arrangeher long red hair before my bedroommirror.she pulls her hair up andpiles it on top of her head-she lets her eyes look atmy eyes-then she drops her hair andlets it fall down in front of her face.we go to bed and I hold herspeechlessly from the backmy arm around her neckI touch her wrists and handsfeel up toher elbowsno further.she gets up.this is it, she says,this will do. well,I'm going.I get up and walk herto the doorjust as she leavesshe says,I want you to buy mesome high-heeled shoeswith tall thin spikes,black high-heeled shoes.no, I want themred.I watch her walk down the cement walkunder the treesshe walks all right andas the pointsettas drip in the sunI close the door.

Thursday, March 15, 2007

your life is your life don’t let it be clubbed into dank submission. be on the watch. there are ways out. there is a light somewhere. it may not be much light but it beats the darkness. be on the watch. the gods will offer you chances. know them. take them. you can’t beat death but you can beat death in life, sometimes. and the more often you learn to do it, the more light there will be. your life is your life. know it while you have it. you are marvelous the gods wait to delight in you.

Wednesday, March 14, 2007

not much chance,completely cut loose frompurpose,he was a young manriding a busthrough North Carolinaon the wat to somewhereand it began to snowand the bus stopped at a little cafein the hillsand the passengers entered.he sat at the counterwith the others,he ordered and the food arived.the meal wasparticularlygood and thecoffee.the waitress was unlike the womenhe hadknown.she was unaffected,there was a naturalhumor which camefrom her.the fry cook saidcrazy things.the dishwasher.in back,laughed, a goodcleanpleasantlaugh.the young man watchedthe snow through thewindows.he wanted to stayin that cafeforever.the curious feelingswam through himthat everything wasbeautifulthere,that it would alwaysstay beautifulthere.then the bus drivertold the passengersthat it was timeto board.the young manthought, I'll just sithere, I'll just stayhere.but thenhe rose and followedthe others into thebus.he found his seatand looked at the cafethrough the buswindow.then the bus movedoff, down a curve,downward, out ofthe hills.the young man looked straight foreward.he heard the otherpassengersspeaking of other things,or they werereadingorattempting tosleep.they had not noticed themagic.the young manput his head toone side,closed hiseyes,pretended tosleep.there was nothingelse to do-just to listen to thesound of theengine,the sound of the tires in thesnow.